


The Good Doctor

by macgyvershe



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Major Character Injury, More Fluff, Mycroft Being Mycroft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2014-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-08 17:58:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1950756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macgyvershe/pseuds/macgyvershe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU Sherlock and John meet when John is called upon by Mycroft to treat his brother who is suffering from recreational consumption and out and out boredom. John is smart. Sherlock is out smarted. Sherlock is injured and John makes a life altering decision. And what the hell is in the fridge this time?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Good Doctor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Antidiogenes club](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Antidiogenes+club).



> Many thanks to the Antidiogenes club. Every time I go on a war with you wonderful people, I come up with a new idea for a story. Then I have to tramp off and finish that story so that I can read it. Go you guys and gals and alternatives. I can't thank you enough for pushing my writing button.

Mycroft stood in the hallway outside his brother’s room. From his left, one of the house guards approached with a gentleman in tow. 

“Mister Holmes, this is Doctor Watson.” The well-groomed guard nodded briefly and returned to his post. 

Doctor Watson extended his hand in greeting and Mycroft took it with a bit of hope and some trepidation.

“Thank you so much for coming at this early hour, Dr. Watson. My brother is rather a hand full. I’ve not been able to keep medical practitioners for more than a few minutes at a time. You come highly recommended as a man who isn’t easily deterred.”

Dr. Watson gave a tiny smile. “I am a compassionate man, but I do know how to take control of a situation when it needs to happen. I’ve read his medical history. I think I’m fairly prepared to interact with him.” 

“Best of luck to you, Doctor. I will remain here. My presence seems only to aggravate him. If you need to exit the door will lock behind you.”

“So you have someone monitoring him?”

“Yes, I fear for his…wellbeing.” Mycroft looked away as if ashamed that Sherlock required such observation.

“I would ask you to turn off all monitoring and unlock the door and that the door remain unlocked as long as I’m caring for your brother. This is not negotiable, theses are the terms of my service to you and your brother.”

“Believe me I do this for your safety as well as his.” Mycroft seemed slightly miffed.

“My terms Mr. Holmes or you can look for another Doctor at 2 AM in the morning who has my constitution for not being deterred.”

Mycroft acquiesced and moved away from the door.

John Watson opened the door and entered the room of Sherlock Holmes. A man who was a prisoner in his own home, a menace to himself and apparently able to thwart medical assistance with the wag of his tongue.

(-_-)

The occupant of the room stood at the window with bars on it. Tall, exceptionally thin and clothed in only a pair of well-worn pajama bottoms that were so thin that they left little to the imagination when it came to Sherlock Holmes’ anatomy.

“Good morning, Mr. Holmes. I’m Dr. John Watson. I’ve been commissioned to assist you in whatever way possible to help you return to the real world.”

Sherlock looked about at the turned off monitors in the room and then looked at this new doctor.

“Early forty’s. Military doctor who can’t return to his surgery services, but now makes a living helping with well-appointed ‘hard cases’. You think having the monitors turned off is going to garner my good will, do you?”

John pulled up a near-by chair and sat down. 

“Rebellious, non-conformist with slight touches of low sexual self-esteem overlay with huge feelings of superiority. Doesn’t play well with others. Basically, extremely bored and trying to find yourself at 34 years of age. How am I doing?”

“Much better than any of your predecessors. Most of them ran screaming from the room after a few well-chosen words.”

“So what well-chosen words do you have for me?” John looked steely eyed at the man across from him. He felt a definite physical attraction to this young man. He took a relaxing breath and turned those thoughts from his mind.

“You look mild, innocent, non-threatening, yet you are so far from those outward saintly appearances. You are dark and dangerous, lethal when needs must. You are attracted to your ‘hard cases’ as they provide that spark of adrenaline that fires your blood. How’s that?” Sherlock said glaring at John.

“Yes, I can no longer work the surgery due to an old military injury. I’ve had to be more soldier than doctor in my past. So spot on. Good you.”

“So how do I call you?” Sherlock’s silver/blue/green eyes moved over John’s body as he assessed the firm musculature beneath the soft wool jumper and business suit that hid more than it revealed. Sherlock felt the stirrings of arousal flicker in his slender frame. _How very odd._ He thought to himself. How wonderfully intriguing and terrible irritating. _Oh, god I want to know everything about this man who doesn’t fit into any kind of little box._

“I’d like to be called John, as I’d like to become your friend.”

“I don’t have friends.” Sherlock replied and turned away, but not without puffing himself up in self-importance.

“So you enjoy being an absolute idiot by yourself.” John said without judgment.

(-_-) 

“So I take it that I am no longer a prisoner in my bedroom? That I can move about at will?” Sherlock stood straight, dressed in a bespoke suit, Italian shoes and without a tie. His neck and upper chest available for John’s viewing pleasure. A small smile beginning to linger on his lips. They were in the Holmes’ main sitting room, decorated in early posh and supplied with ample dashes of old money.

“You may go anywhere in the world as long as I accompany you.” John replied without a blink.

“When you sleep or require time away from me, what then?” Sherlock was sure that John would have to have down time at some point in the future.

“Then I will hand-cuff you to my person and I will sleep or use the loo or take a shower with you attached. And I know about your delightful ability at lock picking so I’ve acquired a set that even Houdini couldn’t crack.”

Sherlock’s eyes glittered and squinted. He loved a challenge. Even better, would John actually take him into the shower? What would that be like?

“Would you care to demonstrate this apparatus that you say cannot be opened?”

“Sure why not.” John said. He looked about the room. The huge fireplace had several iron rings firmly placed into the old stone of the masonry. “Ah, that should do.” He placed Sherlock next to the fireplace. Locked the odd-looking handcuffs to one wrist threaded the cuff into one of the rings and tightened the other cuff to Sherlock’s other hand.

“I’m off for a spot of tea in the kitchen. I’ll be back in about an hour or so. That should give you plenty of time to escape.”

Sherlock smiled looked down at the cuffs. No key hole. Nothing.

“John!” Sherlock shouted after the departing doctor. “How the hell do these blasted things open?”

“Swipe card or electronic signal. Neither of which you have access to. So do sit and be a quiet lad till I come back for you.” John winked over his shoulder at Sherlock, the cheeky fool. 

Sherlock sat on the cold hearth and looked at the cuffs that John Watson had used to totally out play him.

“Turn-about is fair play, John.” Sherlock whispered to the doctor as he departed. John Watson had captured Sherlock’s attention completely.

(-_-)

Several times after that incident, Sherlock had tried to see if he could overpower the resident doctor. To keep from being cuffed. To his eminent surprise, the doctor was fast, agile and had an efficiency of movement that was not strength, but a learned ability to move forcefully without exerting muscle. How very fascinating and again irritating as hell.

(-_-)

Freed from captivity, but now companioned in every aspect of this life, Sherlock Holmes was rather at loose ends. He really has developed a liking for his no-nonsense doctor who would bridge no shite. John was tough but fair in his approach to the care and feeding of his new found friend.

Sherlock talks John into moving in with him at a flat located in central London. Lestrade started throwing cold cases his way now that he was no longer using. Then real cases as Sherlock becomes invaluable to the Yarders. With a 98 % conviction rate, Sherlock was on fire. The handcuffs were still available, but rarely used. Sherlock was way too busy sussing out his new found friend, doctor at large and possible/probably bedmate. So it’s all good. Very good, in fact, it’s superlative.

Months pass. John perceives that Sherlock will be able to make his way alone. Something in him knows that he should cut the ties. That he really should move on with his life. Being with Sherlock is like nothing else he has ever experienced. John was getting too comfortable traveling the trails and traces of London solving crime with his mad man. In a short time, the company of this genius, acid tongued beauty has changed everything. Ah, and he is so beautiful. Sherlock’s aesthetics are not lost on John. This is turning into more than a patient/doctor relationship.

(-_-)

John opens the door of his room to find Sherlock standing there. 

Sherlock is pissed off. “You can’t do this to me. You can’t leave.” Then with a childish pout. “I’ll relapse.”

John pushes him aside and picks up his duffle bag with all his belongings. “I can’t pretend that you need me anymore, Sherlock. You’re doing better and better every day. You’ve got your work now. A healthy relationship with the Yarders. I can’t be your doctor forever.”

Sherlock grips John’s shoulders with the strength of his long elegant hands. “Then be my friend…stay with me, my brother will pay you any amount you request…”

“It’s not about the money, Sherlock. You need to see that you can do this on your own. You’re stronger now than you’ve ever been. You’ve always had Mycroft standing over you. You don’t want me to take his place. We have to break this client/patient bond if we are to become anything else. You know I’m right. I am not walking out of your life. Just allowing you a little space to harden that carapace that you think you have surrounding your heart. It’s really smoke and mirrors isn’t it? Now’s the time to prove to yourself and to me that you are capable of anything, everything.”

Sherlock looks into those midnight blue eyes that have the colors of soft earth and sparkle of dazzling stars and he sees John’s truth.

“I’m just a mobile call away. You can text me till your fingers fall off. You know where I live. Don’t be a stranger.” John smiled, set down his duffle and hugged Sherlock Holmes good-bye.

(-_-)

Lestrade called him to the hospital two days later.

“John, he wanted me to tell you this wasn’t his fault. The gunman had Brody on the ground, wounded. Sherlock jumped the gunman; the gun went off, ricocheted off the wall and hit him. He was doing a good thing. Saved Brody’s life for sure. So don’t be too hard on him.”

John entered the room and took in the sight of his Sherlock. Picking up the chart at the nurse’s station he’d read it through quickly. Sherlock, though in pain, had refused pain medication. Hitting the wall greatly reduced the velocity of the bullet before it entered him, it still did damage to his right shoulder.

“John, I didn’t…” Sherlock tried to protest his innocence, but John wasn’t having it and gently brought Sherlock up in a hug and a fierce kiss. 

“You scared the fuck out of me, Sherlock. Don’t ever do that again.” John demanded.

“I was being a good man, like you taught me John.”

In the stark white bed with lines and monitors attached to him, Sherlock looked so innocent and youthful. John’s heart broke.

“I’m going to need some help for a little while, will you see if you can find someone who isn’t crap to care for me?” Sherlock was all too sad and sorrowful looking. The pain in his eyes was visible.

“First, I’m going to get you some pain meds. You are not going to suffer with this injury. Second, I’ll be moving back in, as your friend who also knows medicine. Got that?” 

Sherlock smiled knowing that in the end he’d finally found a way to keep John close. As long as there was danger. As long as Sherlock moved in the dark shadows of the great city of London. Then John Watson would be at his side, protecting and cherishing the life of Sherlock Holmes. Though the words were unspoken, the groundwork was set in place. Two lives were merging into one; the love that shimmered on the outside was flowing inward. Deeper and with greater constancy. 

Sherlock watched as John pressed a syringe of pain meds into his IV bag. Slowly the edge of pain lessened and his whole body lost its tension. John sat at his side. 

(-_-)

That night when Mycroft had come to visit. John had excused himself to grab a quick bite to eat.

“I want to be released tomorrow.” Sherlock said to his brother. “To go home into John’s care.”

“Are you sure about this?” Mycroft was not at all surprised, merely cautious and concerned.

“You’ve had him vetted.” Sherlock sniffed. “You’d not let him near me if you thought there was a chance of him doing me harm.”

“There are many ways to harm a human heart.” Mycroft rumpled his forehead and gave Sherlock a hard-eyed stare.

“Then be absolved of any guilt. I am in charge of my ‘human heart’ and John is an adult the last time I looked. We will make our way without further aid. I can do this.” Sherlock said with confidence.

Mycroft had never seen this intensity in Sherlock before. Not when it came to interpersonal relationships. He quite liked it. 

“Turn off all these silly monitors too. My life is my own Mycroft.” 

“Of course, brother mine. Of course.” Mycroft was finally able to relax. This was a sort of resolution to the quandary of constantly over-seeing his little brother. John Watson was a fine man. Capable and lethal in equal parts. “I ask only one thing of you.” Mycroft brought his umbrella in front of his body and leaned on it fractionally. “Please do not relinquish your heart slowly. John Watson is not a man to be happy with bits and pieces. Give him all of you.”

For once Sherlock agreed with his elder brother. 

“I shall. I promise.”

John entered the room with a small tray and three steaming cups of tea. 

“What did I miss?” He looked from brother to brother as he offered up tea.

“Merely the contractual agreement between siblings who have never seen eye to eye before and now do. In short a miracle of sorts.” Mycroft said smiling.

“Well, sorry I missed that. Sounds monumental. Could I offer you some tea Mycroft?”

Mycroft accepted the tea as Sherlock did his. Everyone took a quiet sip of their temperate tea.

“Sherlock, I leave you in competent hands. I will see to your request first thing in the morning. Good evening, John.” He exited into the night, his many minions snuggling up to him like a trailing wool coattail.

“Was that the ‘break John Watson’s heart and I will spank you thoroughly speech’?” John drank some more tea waiting for confirmation.

“Yes, it was. The main point being that I have you back in my life. That we are embarking on a journey of discovery.”

“Discovering what?” John tilted his head and viewed Sherlock over the steam of his tea. 

“One, can John Watson tolerate the personage of Sherlock Holmes for a life time? Two, can said JW also develop strong emotional (Sherlock winced at the use of the word) connections to the savage Sherlock Holmes? Three, can sexual tensions be released before said Sherlock Holmes succumbs to the most severe case of blue bollocks that he has ever experienced? And finally, can Sherlock Holmes actually say the words ‘I love you’ with truth upon his lips?”

John sat down at that last declaration. “Those are some fairly intense sign posts on anyone’s journey, Sherlock. I think I can say without hesitation that I want to make that journey with you.”

“Come here you.” Sherlock asked politely. 

John took up residence on the bed next to Sherlock and an intense amount of snogging and groping ensued.

(-_-)

“Sherlock!” John was using his outside voice inside. “What the hell is that thing in the fridge?” 

“That was the skinned and eviscerated body of a ‘bioluminescent rabbit.”

“Oh my god, not Blue Bell!”

“Not Blue Bell but a distant relative, John. You don’t mind do you? Can you make some tea? Please?”

John groaned, put the kettle on the hob and checked to see if the milk was anywhere near digestible.


End file.
